Creativity is Overrated

Creativity is overrated. I say this not as an expert in the fields of psychology, cognitive sciences, philosophy, or any number of other disciplines that have made a particular study of creativity (see handy Wikipedia entry on creativity). Instead, I say it as one who has been “creative” and considered “creative” for nearly all of my life, and experienced first-hand the various traps one can fall into while trying to manifest that creativity.

I came to the above conclusion after reading a few too many posts and articles that seem to equate creativity with a chorus of angels–divinely inspired, the goal of goals, a delicate and precious thing that must be nurtured and cherished because it was so special. At the same time these writers seem to find the creative state elusive, or to be struggling with feeling worthy enough for that creativity. Their entire self-esteem threatens to collapse if the “high” of inspiration is not frequent or there on demand.

This irritation is balanced by recognition, because I, too, once spent far too much time agonizing over the creative process, with an ego so fragile that I would literally stop creating because I did not feel confident or worthy enough to stand up to criticism or to take a chance on myself (a.k.a. losing the day job). My Work Ethic background was another hurdle to overcome, as I couldn’t get past the deep-seated notion that writing and art were hobbies, and not a way to make a living unless you were a genius. The implication was that if I followed my heart’s desire to write or paint, I therefore considered myself a genius–more special than thou. Heaven forbid that I would do that!

Creativity is often interchanged with inspiration, and wrongly so. Mix that with the self-esteem issues, and you get a lot of pep talk posts where the blogger seems to be talking him or herself into believing they are capable of greatness, of doing wonderful work if only they wouldn’t lose faith in themselves. They aspire to an almost religious level of belief in themselves and inevitably never achieve their goals because such loftiness is not a natural part of the human condition.

Being awestruck by the creation of other creatives is a memorable experience. The problem comes in thinking that the way somebody’s music or painting makes you feel is the way they felt when composing or painting their work. It ain’t so. Even Beethoven, as sublime as his music is, was noted for his crankiness and decidedly uninspired behavior, even before his deafness and ill health became a problem. He worked in spite of distracting family problems and pride-crushing romantic failures.

Creations exist because the creators showed up at the easel, the piano, the barre, the laboratory, the computer, and the weaving looms. That’s it–they just showed up and did the work, regardless of whether inspiration hit them that day or not. There were good days and there were bad days, and the creators worked through them. All the genius in the world wouldn’t have done any good if they sat there and navel-gazed or waited only until inspiration struck, or worked only when all their ducks were lined up.

Creative coaches can help with flow techniques and a sense of supportive community, but when you think about it, they also capitalize on a vulnerable and needy market, particularly the ones who themselves angelicize the creative process and use gentle pep-talk language to make would-be creatives feel more confident and better about themselves. American culture seems rife with this sort of coaching. I have trouble with the language they use, which seems to validate the insecuries instead of shrinking them. It keeps the insecure creators insecure, and as long as they are insecure, the coaches are in demand.

So I say to would-be creatives: get over yourselves. Your creativity means nothing unless you show up to do the work. It’s not sublime, it’s just the way you’re wired, to express yourself creatively in whatever field or medium that speaks to you. You don’t need anyone’s permission to do it, only your own. It doesn’t matter how good you are right off the bat, because practice makes perfect, and you’ll need as much practice as you need. Don’t aspire to a lofty notion of being an artist or a groundbreaker in your chosen field–just show up and do the work, and do it in the manner that feels most “right” to you. Over time, your uniqueness and the medium will coalesce, and become your signature output.

Whether or not your work is genius-level is not for you to decide, so don’t go there. Sometimes the most remarkable creations aren’t realized as such in the creator’s lifetime. This was true for Beethoven, whose Late String Quartets seemed bizarre to audiences of his time, but which inspired early modernist composers such as Stravinsky and Bartok, and are now considered some of the greatest music ever written.

The biggest favor I ever did for myself was to pull my head out of the clouds and get myself down as low as I could go, which for me was to say: If I don’t do this, I will regret it when I am old and dying. I am going to create what is honestly me, and not worry about how it will be received. I will be humble enough to learn the craft and to just show up, without psychological fanfare, and do the work.

The artificial concept of sublime inspiration had no place in this mindset, but–and this was the best part–after a while I would often get into a “zone,” where I would be absorbed by the flow of the work, a feeling so real and rewarding, that inspiration couldn’t begin to compare. And it was real, not some state of mind I had to talk myself into or be coached into believing.

14 Responses to “Creativity is Overrated”

Comments

I totally agree. It’s called work, people!
Two thoughts on this. It’s funny that people notice how “creative” young children are when they are doing whatever they do, all day, with sticks and rocks and bolts and what have you, and yet somehow we lose that along the way. We lose not only that drive kids have to be creating constantly, but we also lose that wonderful definition of “creative,” we end up putting it in a box.

My other thought is that geniuses are not usually happy people. I know I’m stereotyping and generalizing, but my personal experience (my dad – extremely high IQ, photographic memory, painter, writer, carpenter etc. bi-polar and dead at 48) as well as wider exposure, makes me happy to sweat a little rather than be infused with “genius.”

Hi Terra–the definition of creativity changes a bit from childhood’s innocent fanciful exploration to adulthood’s more deliberate following the beat of a different drummer. The ones who don’t entirely lose the innocence are the creative ones.

You’re not kidding about the genius-level folks. I’ve known some in my lifetime who seemed more tortured than content. Nonetheless they still had to show up and do the work if anything was to come of their genius.

I happened upon your blog last weekend, enJOYing a deliciously lazy linking few hours. I especially enJOYed your voice and insight, which, as I’ve read again here, is borne of your own Journey through many of the same swamps you speak of.

I’ve been very determined to move past my own sticking points, so I especially liked reading your perspective/perception about having a coach or getting coaching. I admit I’ve succumbed to feeling “arrogantly misinformed” about this new role of some really very ordinary folks many times. Somehow reading what you wrote here put that into a better light for me. Thank you.

I’ve been removing boulders from my own path and finding that BEing creative [or as so many Now refer to it, “a creative”] is mostly just a way of BEing than an intentional act. And it isn’t a way of BEing that is only visited upon a fortunate few.

Thank you for writing intelligently about this so I could listen more closely to my own thoughts on this. I started out this year writing a blog post each morning in order to make a perpetual calendar AND use the wonderful storehouse of photos I’ve taken and continue to take of my dog, Gracie Mae. It’s just what I DO and NOT who I am.

Actually, I guess I could have kept this simpler just saying thank you. You’ve made me stop and think and smile. So… thank you!!

Hi Meg–
I wrote about creativity this week, too. (http://www.thissortaoldlife.com/2012/04/24/your-process-isnt-broken/) I completely agree with your thoughts on the importance of showing up. It doesn’t matter what kind of creative work I’m doing–it flows differently if I’m showing up on a regular basis. Want to suggest, though, that we might question calling it work. I like the word “play.” And I like playing hard and believe you can’t get much of anywhere without steady, hard play. I wrote about a project this week in which we’ve taken lots of breaks, but those were breaks from that specific project–not from creative work as a whole.

Hi Rita–you have one helluva bathroom reno going on, and are a much braver soul than I. We have a standard builders-issue plastic tub surround which is so blah, but ripping it out and replacing it with tile is just not going to happen in the near future.

Replacing the word “work” with “play” is just as enabling as anything, depending on where your project belongs in the larger scheme of your life. For me it is indeed work, and calling it work is enabling because it is the kind of work that wasn’t deemed work in my past. In fact, writing and painting were considered “play” and an indulgence not worthy of serious pursuit.

People prefer to forget the 99% perspiration. And they don’t remember that many ‘famous’ people, writers and painters in particular, were not famous until after they died, having lived in obscurity and poverty.

I like your take on creativity not being something particularly special or ‘out there’ but something normal. Anyone who has ever told a lie or made an excuse is being creative to some extent; there are many ways that creativity can manifest itself, and some of them are definitely not ‘sublime’. They do say that ‘successful’ criminals are among the most creative of people.

I belong to a creativity forum that I rarely participate in. I’ve been wondering why recently, and the conclusion I came to was that they’re spending an awful lot of time talking about it, discussing it, arguing over it, but not actually getting on and just doing it. It seems to me like another form of procrastination. I’m not saying this isn’t useful sometimes, but when it’s a choice between time spent discussing manufactured questions about creativity, or actually doing some writing, I’ve learned that the writing is far more fulfilling and will get me further.

Hi Gilly–I hadn’t thought about lying and excusing as creative acts! Definitely not sublime, you are so right ;D

Sometimes I will see a question posted on a creativity or self-help blog and I’ll think about it. But I tend to avoid participating, as it is such a time-suck. You’re right, better to just get on with the writing!

For years I suffered from a kind of syndrome. Every reading or show I attended, I would be tempted to say “I could do that.” But I didn’t. There were a million excuses. I played the role of misunderstood victim very well. Bottom line was that I was flat out afraid. Countless critics in my head, years of waiting to be told what to do. It just wasn’t happening. You’ve hit the nail on the head, as usual, Meg. Until I showed up and did the work, I couldn’t “do that.” Now I can. And no amount of classes or coaching or talk can take its place.

Thanks for this post. You have no idea how much I needed to read this. I feel the graces of relief overcoming me. I always felt I was standing and stretching and flapping my arms waiting for the supernal rift to catch me up into its ethereal hands and fling me towards destiny. I have been beginning to suspect finally that it has been an over rated and over romanticized crock. You can never truly fail at having honestly tried. Thanks again for the affirmation. Now time to get to work.

Hi Jean–yep, you got it right, it’s over-romanticized. It’s not that something magical doesn’t happen–on the contrary, getting into a “zone” or a “flow” where there’s almost a dialogue between you and your work is an amazing state of being, and much to be desired. But it won’t happen unless you’re already there in front of the work, and have put in the hours and hours needed to understand the craft and to trust in the process.